Lack
by Anonymous033
Summary: Ziva has a question on her mind that she's been thinking about for a while now, and she finally works up the courage to ask Tony. NOT fluff.
1. Lack

**_Update (December 12, 2012): Minor editing in this chapter for characterization. Content remains mostly unchanged._**

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><p><strong>Summary: Ziva has a question on her mind that she's been thinking about for a while now, and she finally works up the courage to ask Tony.<strong>

**Disclaimer: Have any of you ever eaten ****_kaya_****? It's a spread, popular in Malaysia. I will make TPTB 1, 000 bottles if they give me NCIS…to which I currently have no rights.**

**Spoilers: Major Jeanne Benoit.**

**Time setting: Hypothetical post-Ray, again. Tony and Ziva are a lot more touchy-feely but still just partners.**

**This story is eh…written from Ziva's POV, and as I assume she does not know about Wendy and does not care about EJ, neither of them is covered in this chapter. Also (and I say this for a lot of my fics), this story may be weird?**

**Enjoy!**

**-****_Soph_**

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><p><strong>Lack<strong>

It popped into her mind every time they came close to doing something, saying something, confessing something that would take their relationship beyond the boundaries of Friendship. Sometimes she was the one who held back on her words because she wasn't sure how he'd be able to take them. How _she'd _be able to take them, for that matter. Most of the time though, it was he who held back on his words, and when that happened the sting would return to her heart and the thought that had been bouncing around in her head for years would come back to haunt her.

Sometimes it came into her mind unbidden. She'd just be there, thinking about something else altogether, and it'd come back to rear its ugly head and make her life miserable. Because each time she thought about it her gut would twist in an odd manner that made her want to hurl, and her heart—her poor little broken-too-many-times heart—would shatter into a thousand pieces again. She really wanted to know the answer to her unasked question because then she might be able to move on from him—but it wasn't a question that could just be _asked_. That wasn't them. They'd come a long way since they first met, but they still didn't deal with personal issues that well.

The thought came into her mind now as she watched him watch the movie showing on television. They'd just laughed at something that had happened in the previous scene and she'd turned to him, her heart tripping over his sparkling white teeth and beautifully twinkly eyes; for reasons unknown even to herself, her unasked question had come screaming its arrival. Her smile slid off her face as quickly as it had appeared, and although he had turned back to the screen by now she knew he had noticed. She only hoped he was too distracted by the bikini-clad woman on TV to care.

It turned out her hopes were a little on the high side, though, because the moment the movie ended the TV was turned off and his intense eyes were on her.

"What's up?" he asked, reaching out a hand to brush a stray hair away from her face. She avoided his gaze. It was weird that she let him touch her like that, now that she thought about it.

She swallowed as she drew her legs up onto the couch and propped her chin on her knees, mulling things over. She really wanted to ask him about it. Not because she particularly wanted to know the answer, but because she hoped that her heart could be sufficiently enough broken this time to stop her from falling in love with him again. She didn't know how much more of it she could take; how much more significant looks paired with all the wrong words and how much more of wondering why she could _never_ measure up.

She swallowed again and made up her mind. "Tony…can I ask you a question?"

His figure tensed slightly with wariness. "Sure. Can't promise I'll answer it though."

Her heart plummeted as she shook her head. "Forget it."

"No." He took up her hand gently, drawing closer to her whilst studying her with more concern than might be good for the pitter-pattering of her pulse. "What is it?"

She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. "It may be too personal for you."

"How personal?"

"Very."

"Well, y'know, you could just ask and let me be the judge of that."

"You would not get mad?"

He frowned as he thought about it. "I haven't been properly mad at you in a long time," he settled for answering rather noncommittally, and she thought he probably had a point. If he were to get mad, it was most likely due anyway.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and scooted away from him—some emotional distance would be good. Pulling her hand from his grasp, she met his questioning eyes. "I was just wondering. You know, when you were with Jeanne…what you saw in her."

He blinked dazedly at her, and if her heart weren't thundering with trepidation and the expectation of hurt she might have laughed at his expression. "What I…saw in her," he repeated slowly.

"Yes. What made you…fall in…love." She dropped her gaze and stared determinedly at the discoloured pattern on the fabric of his couch. The question had taken a lot more out of her than she'd thought.

"Is there a reason you're wondering this?" he asked with what sounded like pained confusion. She couldn't really tell, because she didn't dare to look at him just yet.

"Yes." She paused and considered her words. "But I can't tell you it."

"Why not?"

"Because it is personal for me."

"So you decided to ask me personal questions but not tell me anything yourself?"

She couldn't help it just then; her head snapped up as his words drove metaphorical glass shards into her heart. "You asked," she gasped indignantly.

His face fell, and he seemed to realize the unfairness of his words. "Sorry," he whispered, and his hand found hers again. Just a short little squeeze to assure her that he hadn't meant to hurt her with what he'd said. And then he took a deep breath. "Well…she was beautiful, first of all. Very beautiful. And she was smart. Probably not in a perceptive kind of way, but she knew all her doctor stuff very well. And she had the kindest heart. Which I broke, but…yeah. I hadn't meant to. I mean, she was just very sweet. I never really wanted to break her heart."

Ziva blinked rapidly and choked back the pain that was rising in her again. She'd known he'd been in love with Jeanne, of course, but hearing it like that was very different. Hearing it like that made her gut twist that much more. "Are you…" She cleared her throat. "Are you still in…love with her?"

"No!" he answered incredulously. "No. There's only been one woman…for a while now."

She furrowed her brows as she tried to fill in the blanks; a mistake, as a tear that she'd been trying to keep under control slipped down her cheek. He reached over to lightly brush it away, and she jumped at the contact.

"Hey." He moved closer to her and put an arm around her; she curled into him before she could think too much about it. _Damn. _She really needed to break that habit. "What is up with you?"

"I didn't know you were seeing anyone," she said quietly against his shoulder.

"I'm not. Not really."

"Does she know you love her?"

"Jeanne?"

"No. That woman. That there's only been for a while now."

There was a moment's hesitation as he thought about it. "No. I guess not. Wish I could tell her, though."

"Why don't you?"

"Not our thing. I guess…I'm really just waiting for her to move on."

"So you were with this woman?" She furrowed her brow again. "How did I miss this? I realize we don't share everything, but this is big. You don't fall in love often."

"You do, though."

"What?" She frowned at his deflection; she would've looked up at him if her eyes weren't swimming with tears right now. How the hell was she relevant to anything?

"Nothing." He tapped the fingers that held her shoulder twice. "Zi, what's wrong?"

She held back the sob that threatened to escape and shrugged as indifferently as she could. "I was just wondering…what kind of woman Tony DiNozzo would fall in love with."

He snorted. "Jeanne might not be the best example, considering how our relationship started in the first place."

"But your love for her was real."

"It was."

"In that case, the comparison is justified."

She didn't realize what she'd said until, with a certain tension in his voice, he asked, "Comparison with what?"

She stiffened, her tears forgotten. Horror crept into her at the _too much_ she'd said; all she wanted now was to run away. "Nothing. I was not comparing anything."

"You know, for an ex-Mossad-officer you're a horrible liar."

"Thanks," she said bitterly as she tried to shrug his arm off her shoulder. It only served to make him tighten his grip, though.

"Have you been comparing yourself with her?" he practically growled.

She almost wrenched his arm out of its socket this time. All pretences dropped, she scrambled off the couch and into her shoes faster than even she herself could comprehend. "Glad you figured it out, aren't you? Well, I'm leaving now."

Her coat was over her arm before he stopped her with a well-placed hand in the crook of her elbow. And no, she couldn't move—not when he was now cupping her cheek and rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone, because under ordinary circumstances it would have been her dream come true, and she had to feel it just once before she walked out the door and returned to the reality that she hadn't the right even to compare herself to Jeanne. She—Ziva—wasn't his girlfriend and had never been, and he was in love with some woman now, and she just had to accept that she would always be lacking a certain something that made Tony _want _to be in love with her.

The sob that she'd been keeping back forced its way out, after all, and he wrapped his arms around her as he tenderly shushed her. She leant against him and breathed in his scent, and it felt like home even though it shouldn't have. She knew it was infinitely _stupid_; she needed to stop relying on him, right now. But she couldn't. Because she loved him, even if he didn't love her.

He pressed a kiss into her hair. "Zi, don't leave. Please."

"I should." She lifted her hand and dropped it hopelessly. "I just realized how stupid this sounds. Jeanne. And me. There should never have a comparison. I know how much you loved her. And I…" She shuddered. "I just needed to know what it was that I was…missing."

"You aren't missing anything," he told her fiercely, and she smiled with bitter understanding.

"I know I'm not missing anything, per se." She patted his chest, not really sure if the action was intended to comfort him or herself. "You need to tell this woman that there's been for a while now that you love her, yes? Because that does not often happen to you. It is important, that you seek your happiness. And I...will work on forgetting…things. I am sorry I put you through all this, Tony. It won't happen again."

"No," he cried out as she pulled away, and her tired eyes met his. He licked his lips. "Ziva, if you leave…I'll have been right all along."

"Right about what?"

"I need to know why you were comparing yourself with her."

"Too personal, Tony."

"Please."

It took all her willpower to keep from collapsing to the floor in tears. She was _so tired_. So tired from tonight, so tired from all the nights that she'd spent wondering if he would ever love her as much as he had Jeanne.

"If I say this will we still be friends tomorrow?" she whispered, because he had said _please _and she didn't have much to lose anymore. It wasn't just her heart that was obliterated anymore; her pride had all but vanished when she realized how low she had sunk.

"Yeah. Can't have it any other way."

She shook her head but answered anyway. "Because you were in love with Jeanne. And I needed to know, why things couldn't be…different."

"'Different.'"

"Yes. I understood, when you were with Jeanne…she was the perfect woman for you, yes? But I had hoped, when you moved on…I know that it's des_pi_cable of me, but I had hoped."

"You hoped that I love you."

She bit down on her lip, because it stung a lot to hear it put like that. But it was true, wasn't it? "I cannot say otherwise."

He hesitated, and with sudden insight she heard his next question before he said it. "Do you…love…me?"

A metallic taste coated the tip of her tongue. Her lip was bleeding. Licking the blood up, she answered, "I was not comparing for nothing." She gave a sharp nod, satisfied that she'd managed to answer all of his questions without giving away the remnants of her pride too. "Was there anything else you wanted to know?"

"No."

"Good. Give me a few weeks, okay? I need that space, but…we will be fine by the end of it." He nodded mutely, a movement she caught out of the corners of her eyes. She looked at the door, avoiding the disgust and condescension on his face. "Goodnight, Tony."

There was a silence of two heartbeats before he suddenly leant forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek, wrapping his arms around her waist at the same time. "Can I ask for an extension on those few weeks?" he asked, his breath hot against her skin. She shivered.

"Why?"

"'Cause…I need to figure some things of my own out. And when I have, I'll tell you."

"That will make it harder for me."

He kissed her cheek again, and her head spun from trying to decide between whether she wanted it or not. "I know. But I just need a few more weeks. Please, Zi."

There it was again, the plea that she'd never been able to deny. "Okay," she agreed quietly, even though she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear what he would figure out.

It had always been easier to continue loving him than to fall out of love with him though, hadn't it?

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><p><strong>AN: Yea…I know I ended it in a cliffy! There ****_may _****be a continuance, depending on how the response to this story is. And no, that's not me bribing you for reviews. If I were I'd be more obvious about it. (Although, please review!) This is simply my way of saying that I feel really insecure about this fic.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-****_Soph x_**


	2. Flowers

**As requested, Chapter Two! :D**

**And yes, I _did _put off completing an assignment to write this. Yea...I'm not the most hardworking person in the world.**

**Spoilers: Um...references to Tony's and Ziva's loved ones and relationships up till now. A semi-canon reference to Ray...you'll see.**

**I don't remember if Tony ever gave Jeanne flowers on the show and I don't remember if Ziva ever saw them if he did, but for the sake of this story let's pretend that both happened. He loved Jeanne enough and Ziva certainly was snoopy enough lol!**

**Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter :D I love you guys! You've certainly done a lot to increase my self-confidence.**

**Enjoy; please review this too, and thanks for reading!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p><strong>Flowers<strong>

He loved Ziva.

That much he knew.

He also knew that he had loved Jeanne, and that Jeanne had loved him back. But he _also _knew that love wasn't enough, at the end of the day. Jeanne had walked away, after all. And maybe he'd been in the wrong so he should've been the one to chase after her, but he couldn't; not after Wendy. Not after he had spent months begging, _begging _for the woman of his dreams to come back – to no avail. It'd been both of their faults that he and Wendy's relationship had fallen apart, but that made no difference because in the end, he'd learnt from a very young age that love wasn't enough.

He loved his mother. His mother had died.

He loved his father, and his father wasn't dead but their relationship had been broken enough times for him to believe in the concept of conditional love, anyway.

Then there was that girl from college. _Boy _was she gorgeous. He probably hadn't loved her, but he'd liked her a lot. And the woman from the police academy. Never dated her; secretly loved her anyway. Then there was Wendy. Dated her, loved her, proposed to her. Lost her.

He remembered all of that with a cynical smile as he stepped out of his car and stared up at Ziva's apartment, and the last memory was almost enough for him to step right back into the vehicle and drive away. He didn't really want to spend months begging Ziva to love him again.

The only thing stopping him from leaving now was that _so,_ _so heartbroken _look in her eyes last night. He hadn't done right by Wendy or by Jeanne. He needed to do right by Ziva, even if it killed him, because Ziva was the one whom he loved and had loved for a long time. Who, apparently, had loved him for a long time even though he didn't deserve it at all. Time had changed his perspective; one thing he'd learnt was that you sometimes have to do the things you neither want nor dare to for the people you love, simply because you love them.

He'd gone to Somalia even though getting caught had scared him and getting tortured had terrified him, because he loved her and wanted to do _something _for her. He hadn't expected to bring her back and he certainly didn't expect her to still love him after all these years – but she did, and he just had to do something about that look in her eyes. He owed her at least that much.

Resolution set firmly in place, he crossed the street and proceeded up the stairs. It wasn't until he'd knocked on her door and she'd answered that his resolution started crumbling a little, because _ohmygod _she was so beautiful and _why would she ever love a man like him?_

"Hi," he said awkwardly, and her hand gave an odd twitch by her side.

"Hi," she answered, and he noticed for the first time that her voice was a little less even than usual and her face was a little more tear-streaked than it normally was. She'd been crying.

"Can I come in?" She nodded and stepped aside to let him pass, shutting the door after him and padding into her living room with him. They stood; he stared at her while she stared at the carpeted floor. She looked as nervous as he felt, which was funny because this was her home, after all. "Um. I don't know what I'm doing here."

Her chin lifted before her eyes did, and he knew that she met his gaze with great reluctance. "Do you need more time?" she asked in her broken voice.

It was all he could do not to reach out and kiss all her fears away. "No. I came to…tell you something."

She nodded slowly. "You have figured it out."

"Yeah. I figured it out. Didn't take weeks."

"Just one night." She looked away and pursed her lips, sucking in a breath. "Go ahead."

"Look it didn't take much figuring out. I just wanted to know…how much I should tell you."

She laughed humourlessly at that. "Considering what I told you." Then she sighed. "Look, Tony. What I told you…you don't have to do anything about it. It's just my feelings and…you know, we can just forget about them. Pretend I never said anything. We-"

"I don't want to pretend."

"Are you going to hold this over my head forever?" She looked at him in pained disbelief.

"That's not what I meant. I meant that…Ziva, I have feelings for you." He gulped as her eyes widened and her knees suddenly buckled.

He caught her before she hit the floor and lowered her gently down onto her couch. His heart leapt into his throat when he backed away and glanced at her face to realize that tears were shining in her eyes again; and that, if possible, she looked even more heartbroken than she had yesterday.

His stomach churned and he almost wretched. What the _hell _had he said wrongly? Should he even have spoken at all?

She covered her face with one hand and waved him aside with another, and he settled quietly beside her on the couch. He really wanted to just hold her right now, but he wasn't sure how she'd react. There was also a part of him which really wanted to run away and never look back.

It was an eternity before she finally spoke, not taking her hand from her face. "I know." Her voice was soft.

His heart stopped. "You know?"

"I know. You have…feelings. Tony, I'm not blind. I see them. I know we have a thing, yes?" She lifted her head and smiled weakly at him. "A flirting thing. It's just that I can't do _that_ anymore. 'C-cause I care a bit too much. I used to think that it'd be enough but I…I just wish…I wish…"

"If we brought this beyond whatever we have now…" He swallowed at the shakiness in his voice. "How long do you think we'd last?"

"You don't want to do that," she murmured, her voice becoming a little shaky too. "You have that woman you love, and I am…nothing. I'm not enough for you."

This was the point he would forever remember as the one time he could've told Ziva David that _she _was the one he loved, but didn't. Every time he'd told someone that he loved them, the person had left. And he couldn't watch her walk away; couldn't even bear the thought of it.

Her eyes glazed over slightly at his barely concealed gasp. "I know you said I'm not lacking anything," she continued, sounding more detached now, "but I'm not…not the woman you can shower with gifts. I'm not the woman you can…love. You need to find your happiness, yes? Don't let me get in your way."

He succumbed to his urge now and pulled her into his arms, not caring that she shuddered violently as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Ziva…you're my happiness." It was as close to _I love you _as he could get right now.

"No, I'm not. Look." She pushed gently against him to get him to let her go. "Look. What you had with Jeanne…the flowers and the…secret visits, and the things I heard you…tell her. I know you miss that. And I know you want to find the woman whom you can do and say them with. I'm not her. Because…you have never wanted to give me f-flowers. And I'm not saying that you have to. I'm just saying that I'm not…the one you are looking for."

He drew her to him again and leant his head against hers as he desperately tried to figure out how to _say it _without really saying it. It must be one of the greatest ironies in life that if he didn't say it, he would lose her; but if he did, he might lose her anyway. Wasn't there ever such a thing as a non-lose-lose situation? "I've wanted to buy you flowers, actually," he whispered.

She stiffened like she had yesterday and he looked up, terrified of seeing more heartbreak in her eyes. To his relief, though, something that looked like mere surprise swirled about in her brown orbs. "You have?" she asked with a hint of confusion.

He nodded. "Lots of times. After you became an agent…and then, you know, when you broke up with Ray. I thought it might cheer you up."

She hesitated. "So why didn't you?"

"Because if I'd bought them…then you would've asked me 'why'."

"And you would've had to tell me."

He nodded again, his breath catching in his throat.

"Can I still ask why?" she questioned so softly that he almost didn't hear it over his thudding heart.

He swallowed. "Yeah. But there're some things that…I can't really say. Ziva, do you remember what I said last night about that one woman?"

"The one you love."

"Yeah. That one."

"You said that you wish you could tell her. And that you're waiting for her to move on."

"I don't want her to move on. But I can't say it."

"Why not?"

"'Cause she might go anyway."

"Well-"

"It's happened before. She's fallen in love with others…before."

"Tony…" She hesitated again, a frown line between her pretty brows. "Is she still in love with these 'others'?"

He gave a bitter smile. "I don't think so."

"Then perhaps you have a chance."

"I'm hoping." He groaned internally. Of all the times that she could read his mind, why couldn't she just develop telepathy now? Resisting the urge to punch something, he settled on linking his fingers with her tiny ones. "Zi…do I get a shot at sending you those flowers?"

She turned her head away slowly and studied their linked-together fingers. It was as if time had frozen as she sat perfectly still, her eyes tacked to their hands. After eons, she gave a tiny nod of the head and answered in an even tinier voice. "Yes."

He breathed out and kissed her cheek feverishly, holding her so tightly that a startled gasp escaped her lips. "Then I'll do that."

He didn't fail to notice that the tear which ran down her face this time was accompanied with a small smile.


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